Idealism
by KaitanAtreides
Summary: A young boy, caught up in his idealistic view of the world of Pokemon, seeks to become a Trainer, and discovers the darker side of the world he knew, loved, and trusted. OC Main. Rated T for darker themes (If I do them right)... First Pokemon fic, please read and review!
1. Idealism

Author's Note:

Hello, I am attempting to get back into writing after taking many many months off. So please bear with me in this. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1: Idealism

In his youth, he was something of an idealist. The only taste of Pokemon he was exposed to was the safe, sanitized version you saw on TV: League matches, promotional videos from the Ranger corps, kids at school whose parents could afford to procure a Zigzagoon or Skitty. There was no indication of the hard and dangerous journeys made by those taking the League challenge; there was not even an inkling of the challenges along the way that claimed many trainers. The closest things he saw to wild Pokemon were skittish Pidgey and Taillow flying around overhead, and the shock of finding a Caterpie napping under that bush. Once, as a bit of excitement, an Aron wandered onto the school campus and ignored everything there, its armor keeping it safe as it basked in the sun, not even registering the children in a fearful ring. The high fences of Rustboro kept people in as well as Pokemon out.

You may wonder why this matters. Simply put, the world of Pokemon is far more dangerous than children are led to believe. Due to the unreliability of the PokeNav technology, it was not unheard of for trainers to fall out of contact for weeks or even months; it was a long time before anyone decided to call them missing or send out a search party. Therefore, Trainer deaths and disappearances could not be reliably measured or calculated. A teen trainer could disappear for years into the mountains unnoticed; he or she could return riding a Metagross, or his or her bones would lie picked over by skarmory, their loyal Pokemon in a restless sleep inside abandoned balls.

He had no doubts that he would become a trainer. Despite his worried father urging him to aim for a job at Devon Corporation, he steadfastly refused, instead filling his memory with type matchups and how to train pokemon. Eventually, he persuaded his parents to let him enter the Trainer's School, right there in Rustboro. It was advertised to teach anything about Pokemon. Here, he was determined to prove his worth and start his long and successful journey as a trainer. He would graduate, save up enough to buy his first Pokemon, and from there...! However, Arceus had other plans.

"Hey, dork!" He cringed as a larger boy stalked up to him. "Where are you going? I'm challenging you to a battle! Send out your Pokemon to get their ass whooped!"

Wishing he could fade away into the background, he hesitated, before saying in a very small voice, "...I don't have any pokemon. I'm new."

Shrinking away from the jeering and catcalling, he attempted to hurry onwards, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "New kid. If you don't have a Pokemon, you've automatically lost. Fork over the prize money and maybe you'll get to the Academy."

Instead of answering, he broke into a run, breathing harshly, pounding towards the gate of the School. After a shocked shout, he heard the fast patter of footsteps following, but tuned them out to focus on the gate approaching maddeningly slowly. Just as he placed his hand on the gate, the harsh hand ripped him away, sending him tumbling backwards, sprawling painfully on the cobbled street, his backpack falling away as he lay momentarily stunned. All he saw were faint silhouettes of children, dark against the bright morning sky, standing around him. "New kid..." rumbled the largest silhouette. "You can't escape!" mocked another. A third simply stepped on him, not saying a word as that older student continued through the gate. Exhaling sharply, he attempted to sit up, his head dizzy, only to be shoved back down, cracking his head against the paving stones. Seeing stars, he only faintly registered the laughter as they continued into the fenced campus.

_So that's the way it would be, huh..._

Staggering upright, he dizzily made his way through the gate, and into the open building door. He was obviously the last one inside, and as he pushed open the classroom door and half-fell inside. The teacher turned to see the disturbance, and he immediately began to speak. "Sorry I'm late, ma'am. I..." his scanning glance caught a warning glare from the students he had already met. Hesitating slightly, he continued, "...fell."

"Name?"

"Quentin. Quentin Russell."


	2. Disaster

Author's Note:

Okay, I admit the name Quentin Shu sucks. I'm really bad at names. I've gone back and changed his last name to Russell. But hey, a mostly positive response so far. That's good. Thanks guys!

Also, despite this taking place in Hoenn, I'll be using whichever Pokedex entry fits my purposes. Most likely a 6th Gen one.

Chapter 2: Disaster, or Trust the Absol

Quentin managed to stagger his way over to a seat, sitting down and putting his head in his hands. This headache wasn't going to be the best of things to have on the first day of class, so he tried his best to sit up straight and give the teacher his attention.

"Students, welcome to the Beginner class of the Pokemon Trainer's School. Today will be a simple getting-to-know-each-other exercise. We're going to go around through all the students and they can tell us their name, favorite Pokemon, and their goals as a Trainer. Let's start with you, in the front right corner."

The brash, dark haired boy jumped up with a clatter. "I'm Sam! My favorite Pokemon is Heracross, and I'm going to be Champion one day! Trust me on this!"

Soft giggles and a smattering of applause greeted his confident entrance. Smiling confidently, Sam sat back down.

"Next, please."

They continued on in this way, snaking around the room. Quentin's head was throbbing too much for him to recall many of the names and specialties, only that there were a lot of people here looking to go into Contests instead of battling. Weren't contests just showing off Pokemon? That didn't seem very useful to him, but hey; their choice. Now he had to think of what to say when it came to his turn.

"Quentin, your turn!" smiled the teacher.

Standing up slowly, Quentin stretched to his unimpressive full height. "I'm Quentin... My favorite pokemon... I'd have to go with Flygon. And I..." after a brief moment of self-reflection, "I'd like to become a Pokemon Ranger." An sharp intake of breath was heard at the unusual ambition, but Quentin quickly sat back down, dozing off through the next round of introductions.

"Now that we all know each other, let's go to Supplies and get the materials you'll need to start the class!"

The teacher led a quiet line of children towards a vast room at the back of the building. No one spoke, they were busy investigating their surroundings. The halls were unnecessarily high and imposing, and the walls a cool brown. Opening a pair of double doors, the teacher announced. "This is the Supplies room. Here we will check out our supplies. Feel free to wander around for a bit, but don't take anything."

As his classmates excitedly ran around discovering the contents of the Supplies room, Quentin busied himself with procuring a handheld Hoenn Pokedex and another notebook to stuff into his bag. This bag was full of stuff, he'd need a bigger bag or to start cleaning it out... The excited shout as the school Pokeballs were discovered faded into the background, however. Hearing only a roaring in his ears, Quentin slowly found his head drawn to the window. Staring calmly at him from outside was a Pokemon, one he'd never seen near Rustboro before. He was entranced by the intelligent eyes in the dark face, the ruff of shining white fur, and the single curving horn protruding from its head. Coming partly to his senses, he removed his Pokedex from his pocket with trembling hands and pointed it at the creature.

_Scanning..._

**Absol, the Disaster Pokemon. It senses coming disasters and appears before people only to warn them of impending danger.**

_Then... that means a disaster is about to happen?_

Suddenly, the majestic creature broke eye contact. Looking upwards, it turned and leapt back over the fence as a massive shadow covered the ground where it once stood.

Quentin turned to yell towards the teacher the Absol sighting, but was cut off as an earsplitting screech filled the air and something massive struck the building's roof, dislodging plaster and small stones. As everyone cowered away, the teacher, a former trainer, recovered enough to shriek at the top of her lungs.

"_SALAMENCE!_"

And everyone's blood turned to ice even as fire licked over the sides of the building.

Go, go, go! "CLASS, THERE IS A SALAMENCE ATTACK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" The teacher let out her Azumarill to help round up the children, dragging Quentin who once more was pointing his Pokedex through the window, this time at the monstrous blue and red form that had landed with an earth-shattering roar.

**Salamence, the Dragon Pokemon. It becomes uncontrollable if it is enraged. It destroys everything with shredding claws and fire.**

"Everyone, the school and Rustboro are no longer safe! We will need to take shelter in the Petalburg Woods! Everyone, grab a Pokeball! That way you can defend yourselves in the forest!"

Little Sam, cowed by the extremity of the situation, spoke up. "But... b-but Teacher, what about you?"

She kneeled down and ruffled his hair, not unkindly. "I'll stay here and try to delay the Salamence. Azumarill is a natural counter to Dragon-types. All of you, get a Pokemon and go south. Cross the bridge and try to get through the woods to Petalburg, they're the closest town."

**Azumarill, the Aqua Rabbit Pokemon. The bubble-like pattern on its stomach helps it camouflage itself when it's in the water.**

Her next words were cut off as the Salamence caught sight of the Azumarill and leaped forwards in challenge, wings beating as it shook the walls down to their foundations. She screamed at the children fearfully clutching pokeballs, just to GO, and turned to command her Azumarill to "play rough" as the walls began collapsing under the dragon's outrage.

Running from the flickering flames and rubble, Quentin saw the Azumarill facing off against the Salamence, the dragon's tail lashing as it scowled at the smaller creature. His teacher strode out into the open, looking like she had an injection of iron into her spine. Confident in her Azumarill's power against Salamence, she raised her arm to order a command: but no sound came out of her mouth; her arm did not come down in a confident gesture of power. In fact, it didn't come down at all.

The second Salamence threw back its head and swallowed her dismembered arm, before roaring out its challenge and diving at the Azumarill. It was flying-tackled out of the air by a Swellow driving deep into its side, as it backed off with a bellow of rage. The Swellow went in for another pass, bloodying the Salamence's side as it turned too slowly to keep up; but then the Salamence was behind the Swellow, and it fled from the fiery breath of the dragon. Soon, the air force of Rustboro arrived to the defence; but it was horribly undermanned and ill-equipped to handle two enraged monsters such as these. A pair of Sealeo began to lob Ice Balls from their defensive locations on the shore; the two Salamence melted them in midair with a combined breath of scorching flames.

The last thing Quentin saw of the battle before he was pulled farther towards the bridge to the south was an earsplitting cry of victory as the entire Trainer's School collapsed under an earthquake, and a stray Hyper Beam annihilating the Devon building in incandescent light. As collateral damage began crushing buildings and rubble began falling around him, even his young mind could realize Rustboro would never be the same, if there even would still be a Rustboro. Preoccupied by his thoughts, a piece of rubble struck him in the back of the head; a brief flash of pain, then he knew no more.


	3. Journey of Terror

Author's Note: Hello again loyal readers. If anyone has suggestions for teams or Pokemon for characters to use, feel free to leave a message. I'm open to suggestions.

GioRocket: Thank you! I'm not sure how well I can explore darker themes with my level of writing, but I'll do my best to live up to your expectations.

ultima-owner: Absol is a pretty cool Pokemon, no doubt about it.

Chapter 3- Journey of Terror

When Quentin finally began his movement back towards consciousness, he first became aware of pain. A painful line across the entire back of his skull, throbbing in tune with the pounding in his ears; a dull pain in his tailbone; several other minor contusions across his body. In the space of a few minutes, Quentin acclimatized himself to the pain and prepared to enter consciousness. When he began to push away the tantalizing darkness of sleep and rose, he discovered another thing: he had not prepared for the pain nearly enough.

He was unable to contain his groan of pain as he finally came to. The first sensations he took note of was the rough blanket underneath him and a source of heat to his right. The bruises and aches throughout his body reminded him that yes, he was alive, and yes, this was real. But then he realized he was in total blackness. He could not see a thing, and his throat was dry and his face felt... thick, almost wooden in its lack of feeling.

Panicking, he flailed around wildly. Was he blind? Captured by someone or something? Trapped in some sort of Dark-type effect? Then a soft voice intervened. "You can open your eyes now, Quentin."

Not recognizing the voice, he blearily opened crusty eyes and carefully brought himself up onto his elbows. The voice belonged to a young dark-haired girl kneeling next to him. She rocked back onto her heels as he rose slightly, giving him a careful eye. Still mostly asleep and therefore ignorant of decorum, Quentin made an appraisal of the girl, lingering more than was strictly necessary. The girl's straight hair fell over most of her face, obscuring dark, angular eyes. She wore a dark jacket two sizes too big for her wrapped around her small frame, and a simple skirt, again in dark colors. Shyly turning away and down from his continued gaze, she spoke softly.

"We're at the gates of the Petalburg woods, and several of the older kids decided to stop here. No one wanted to brave Petalburg in the dark." A short grimace understandably followed this thought, and she fell silent for a moment, collecting herself. "John there helped me carry you this far. Your backpack is really heavy..." She gestured, indicating a grimy boy curled up with

Quentin had the grace to look bashful as he replied, "Heh, sorry about that. I was packing stuff from Supplies into my bag and never got to unload." As his hand touched the welt stretching across the back of his head, he flinched and withdrew his hand, hissing lowly.

Her standoffish demeanor changed instantly as she reached back and lifted a roll of bandages and some kind of ointment from the sleeping bag below her, reaching forward with only a bit of hesitation. "Here, put this on the bandages, it should help reduce the swelling."

Quentin grudgingly submitted to her ministrations, wincing silently as her cool hands touched the source of his pain, but his headache lessened gradually as the ointment took effect. Turning a grateful eye to her, he nodded once and simply said, "Thank you. Sorry, what was your name again?"

A frown marred her face as she answered. "Jacqueline Min. Weren't you listening at introductions?"

Tilting his head up, Quentin began to think back? Jacqueline? Hmmm... Suddenly an image flashed in his mind's eye of a tiny girl with straight black hair proclaiming herself as a future Gym Leader.

His reflective thoughts were interrupted as she pointed out the camp layout. "One guy with a fire-type started a bonfire over there, and we all went along with it; the lake is that way, and the water is clean; there are some berry bushes over there for feeding your Pokemon. We think they are Yache Berries but no one is really sure."

Pokemon? Pokemon! The teacher had ordered them to grab a Pokeball before they left, hadn't she? Where was it? Hadn't he stuffed it in his backpack. Casting around, his eyes lit upon his half-open backpack, notebooks hanging half out of the open pocket. Wasn't it on the top? Had it fallen out?

Panic began to set in as he tried to move towards his bag. He only succeeded in scrabbling forward and upsetting his sleeping bag. Jacqueline looked on curiously as he dragged himself towards his bag. No, no, no, it had to be here. Near-blind in fear and panic, he ripped open his bag and starting delving through its contents. Sweatshirt, no, notebooks, no, snack food, no... Quentin tore through his bag, heedless of the safety of its contents, searching for that elusive round shape of a Pokeball. Moving rapidly, he tossed things behind him in his mad search, uncaring, as long as he could find that white ball...!

Nothing. His bag had been emptied. He didn't have a starter pokemon. He couldn't become a trainer short of capturing something with his bare hands, and anything he could catch would be too weak to fight anyway. He sat back on his hands, and as the adrenaline wore off, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest and the pain in his head resurfaced. His chest felt empty. He had finally entered the Trainer's School, only for it to be destroyed; he had finally gotten his chance at a starter, only to lose the Pokeball somewhere between here and Rustboro; the poor thing was probably under the lake they had crossed. His shoulders hunched as he drew inward, ignoring the dampness in his eyes; he barely even registered Jacqueline softly putting her arms around him as his frame was racked with silent sobs. Distraught over the loss of his home, his Pokemon, and his dream, Quentin cried until his eyes were dry and passed out from stress and exhaustion.

When he next opened his eyes, it was broad daylight, and Sam was standing nearby. "Hey Quentin, time to wake up. We're going to attempt part of the Petalburg Woods this morning."

Extricating himself from the blanket, Quentin stood slowly, ignoring the mumbling from Jacqueline, who had been kind enough to share her blanket in his emotional distress. "Petalburg this soon?"

"We need to get a message to the nearest gym at Petalburg City. The Rock Tunnel is still unfinished, and we aren't going through Meteor Falls. That's where those Salamence came from, and I ain't looking forward to more of their kind. That leaves only the way through the woods, and the word needs to get out. We'll try to get as far as we can during the daylight."

It took relatively little time for the children to assemble, gear packed and Pokeballs in hand, staring fearfully up at the shadows beneath the trees. A girl slightly taller than the rest called out, "Everyone stay together. It's easy to get lost in the dark."

Lacking his own Pokeball to hold in readiness, Quentin instead pulled out his Pokedex and began scanning, hoping to get the drop on any wild Pokemon the rest of the group did not see. After only a little hesitation, the group of children entered the shadows beneath the trees, collectively blinking as their eyes adjusted. Almost half of the children sent out their starters in a cacophony of cries and light, causing Quentin to wince. _There goes any chance of secrecy..._ Once again ruing his lack of a starter, he followed along in the middle of the group, straining his eyes to pierce the deep shadows. The forest held an eerie quiet, only broken by the murmur and shuffling of the children and occasional clicking and hissing noises with no discernable origin. Turning slowly, Quentin gazed fruitlessly into the trees, discerning nothing except leaves. The first Wurmple to emerge from the trees was immediately lit on fire by torchic and charmander just as nervous as their trainers. It shrieked, sliding around while on fire, its distress carrying through the forest before a hulking nidoran stomped it flat.

Not nearly quick enough, though. As soon as they began to relax and move forward, a curious thing happened. Every few meters, a sudden pattern of wingbeats could be heard before halting, at different locations on all sides of the schoolchildren. Every time they would stop, trying to pinpoint the noise, before it would suddenly cease. No one was eager to go investigate under the shadows of the impossibly dense undergrowth. Fearing the unknown, they moved more cautiously. But this held to no avail.

Stepping through the tangled forest, they finally reached a clearing. The exhausted children sat down with a whump, recalling overexcited pokemon. One left his vulpix out long enough to start a small fire before returning it as well. It was this sight which stirred the first inkling of danger within Quentin. Firelight, in a forest crawling with bugs... Quentin just watched the tiny particles illuminated by the firelight floating before disappearing from his vision. Ahhh, they'd be fine. Petalburg Woods were commonly traveled, people had to get to Petalburg City and Rustboro, right? The teacher wouldn't have sent them this way otherwise. That seemed right.

Quentin yawned, and saw another student yawn. Gee, yawning really is contagious. The particles in the air were beautiful in the firelight; they seemed denser than before. He felt his eyes begin to shut, succumbing to sleep, then another deep breath... and an acrid taste assaulted his lungs. Coughing and suddenly awake, he was privy to the sight of shroomish unearthing from the damp soil and shaking themselves violently, scattering spores from the tops of their heads to counteract... something? His mind still befuddled by the effects of the Stun Spore drifting through the clearing, he tied a cloth around his mouth and nose, and noticed the shroomish between his feet, bouncing slightly as it shook itself violently. Silently apologizing, he picked up the shroomish and ran through the sleeping children, spraying the pain-inducing spores far and wide. It didn't seem to mind, chirruping lightly as it nestled itself in his palm. Soon hacking, coughing, and moaning in pain filled the air as the painful shroomish spores drove out the Stun Spore. Now the remaining question was, who had cast the Stun Spore?

First Jacqueline, then Sam, then the other children began to follow Quentin's example in the makeshift filter, releasing their pokemon to try and find the threat. After wary seconds broken only by coughing and curious pokemon nosing at the shroomish, the source appeared. Dustox in vast numbers descended upon the clearing, attracted to the flames of fire-types, scattering dust in their wake.

Screams and chaos awoke as the swarm attacked the crowd indiscriminately. Quentin began to edge away from the swarm, but as he tried to lift his foot further, it was stuck. Looking down, he saw that he had stepped on a String Shot, likely the work of one of Dustox's evolutionary relatives. As he wrenched his foot away, a faint spurting noise saw another line of string lay itself across the top of his boot, hampering him little. He attempted to pull it off, only to find his fingers stuck to the fine string. Hissing in annoyance, he ripped his fingers away, ignoring how the string took his skin with it, his split fingers now bleeding. He took another three steps before he was once more anchored, the frequency of the shots rising alarmingly. Overbalanced, he began to fall, his arms strapped to his sides. His last motion before he hit the ground was to flick his hand, tossing the distressed shroomish away from where he would impact. Then he was totally immobilized, and came face to face with the source of his capture. Silcoon... or was it cascoon? Whatever they were, they were occupied with firmly securing all the humans within immobilizing webs.

Quentin felt all vestiges of movement taken away with layer after layer of luminescent white, and the shroomish danced angrily by his immobile form as a dustox slowly fluttered down in front of him and prepared to release a burst of poisonous dust, lifting its wings high.


	4. Starter Pokemon

Chapter 4- Starter Pokemon

Quentin could do nothing but stare in terror as the dustox settled before him. There was no discernable emotion in compound eyes, nothing he could latch onto and focus his eyes on; it almost hurt his eyes. The only thing that stood between him and its sacs of poisonous dust was the small shroomish he had picked up.

"No, shoo! Get away, it's going to poison you!" he muttered to the shroomish, which seemed incapable of understanding him. It still bounced from foot to foot between the two of them, not giving an inch forward or backwards. The dustox without hesitation released a wave of poisonous powder that drifted lazily towards the both of them. Quentin squeezed his eyes tightly shut, not wanting it to get into his eyes; he couldn't avoid breathing it in though. Trying his best to breathe shallowly, to prolong his life as long as possible, he prayed for a miracle; for little else would suffice. He didn't even have a pokemon to defend him. While that shroomish might harbor some protective instinct, it couldn't hurt a poisonous bug much; a grass type was at a major disadvantage. It was a shame it had to end like this, in the clouded darkness of the Petalburg Woods; he had never even gotten his starter pokemon...

Hearing nothing except his increasing heartbeat, Quentin continued breathing quickly and shallowly. After a tense second, he realized there was no acrid taste of poison, no feeling of spores settling into his skin. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw the shroomish still perched in front of him, seemingly unharmed. Bewildered, he watched uncomprehending as it gobbled up the poisonous cloud, none the worse for wear, and frankly looking better than it did before. He drew a blank, unable to delve through his memory with all the adrenaline in his system. Could grass types somehow derive nourishment from poison?

Soon, however, he was distracted as a searing heat raced across his back and he inadvertently cried out in pain; frantically rolling over and over to put it out, he climbed to his feet breathing heavily. What was that? Then, conscious thought set in. He was no longer pinioned by the white string! Looking back, he saw only a scorch mark in the ground, and twisting, only burn marks on his back. No sign of the string. Had it burned away without a trace? Turning all the way around, he caught sight of a welcome sight. Jacqueline came hurrying over, a coughing vulpix following worriedly. " Are you okay? Vulpix just learned Ember..."

Quentin nodded once, his face set in determined lines. Seeing the dustox persisting in its ineffective assaults against the shroomish, he leapt at it and kicked it once. One inhuman screech later, he had chased down the offending insect and smashed it flat with the sole of his shoe as it broke into tiny flakes. Ignoring the sickening mush under his shoe, he ground it into the dirt in vindictive satisfaction. Turning, he took note of the shroomish, positively glowing with good health.

It headbutted his leg happily, chirping in delight. "Well aren't you friendly now. Get a good feed from the... dustox...? Now shoo, there's more of them! It's not safe!" Their short moment of triumph was interrupted as from the vast raging chaos of the swarm, they were noticed. A detachment of angrily buzzing bugs came rushing at them and a panicked scramble began. The cloudy darkness inside the forest worked against them as the two children and two pokemon crashed through bushes, brambles, narrowly dodging trees, startling wild pokemon in their headlong flight.

Quentin could barely see, as he was busy protecting his eyes with his forearm; the shroomish bounced ahead, Jacqueline leading him after the shroomish; surely it knew where to go? Quentin lost track of what direction they were heading, where they were going, and how long he had been running; there were three constants in the world. The buzz behind him, Jacqueline's hand leading him forward, and the need to shield his eyes. All else was lost in the rush of adrenaline and fear. Before he knew it, he had to slow; even shielding his eyes he could make out the sudden rush of brightness as they cleared the trees. A sudden slamming pressure on his back rewarded Quentin for slowing down; he stumbled and fell, half-stunned. The beautifly on his back sought to disprove its name, aligning its proboscis with the back of the boy's uncovered neck in what would not be a pleasant process.

"Vulpix, Ember!"

The Beautifly was burnt off from Quentin's back, its spindly legs curling up as it fell limp. However, Quentin was well and truly unconscious now, back smoking, innumerable cuts littering his frame, face planted in the dirt. As the small Vulpix tried to keep the swarm at bay with half-controlled Ember attacks, Jacqueline grabbed her friend's hands and pulled. Backpedaling furiously, she made good time away from the forest's edge. The swarm hesitated, darting and wheeling around the vulpix and shroomish that stood as the humans' only line of defense.

Then Jacqueline reached something she did not anticipate. The edge of the lake.

Tripping and falling backwards, she gave a short yell before she loudly made contact with the water. The young pokemon working in their defense were badly startled and turned to see the source of the commotion. Of course, this turned them away from the wild swarm; they were soon beset on all sides, their previous advantage of position gone.

Quentin only woke up when his scorched back hit the water with a wet smack, coming alive with a hoarse grunt lost in the commotion. Doing his best to block out the pain, he took in the situation at a glance. They were in a lake, the forest behind them; a long low bridge snaked across the lake to... a smoking ruin. They had come in a circle, pursued by the swarm. Seeing a chance of escape, he splashed over to the bridge, calling his friend along; mostly submerged under the bridge with only their heads above water below the wooden slats, they might be safe. When they sought safety, they forgot one other thing. Their struggling Pokemon.

The two were feebly thrashing in the grips of strange winged bugs. They labored hard, their wings flapping at high speed, to lift them off of the ground. Exhausted as they were, the shroomish and vulpix couldn't offer much resistance. From her refuge, Jacqueline retrieved a red and white Pokeball and pointed it at her vulpix, recalling it in a flash of white light. Quentin's heart sank into his gut. The shroomish wasn't technically his, so he couldn't recall it to a pokeball it didn't have. Between the two of them the only living pokemon was tired to the point of exhaustion and most likely inflicted with some sort of injury. Going out himself to save the shroomish was a death sentence. A wave of sadness flowed over him and through him. That shroomish had trusted him, fought to help him, and now he couldn't do anything in return. Something Quentin had always hated was the sensation of helplessness, of not being able to do anything; he hated being powerless. In almost any situation, he could contribute something, either from his knowledge of pokemon or his meager physical ability; but this implacable swarm of unfeeling creatures held no sympathy or compassion. Could he even learn from this experience? Quentin removed his thankfully-waterproof Pokedex from his bag and determined to learn something before all else happened.

**Wurmple, the Worm Pokemon. It lives among the tall grass and in forests. It repels attacks by raising up the spikes on its rear.**

**Dustox, the Poison Moth Pokemon. It violently flutters its wings to scatter toxic dust when attacked. It becomes active after sunset.**

**Beautifly, the Butterfly Pokemon. It has an aggressive nature. It stabs prey with its long, narrow mouth to drain the prey's fluids.**

**Shroomish, the Mushroom Pokemon. It spouts poison spores from the top of its head. These spores cause pain all over if inhaled.**

Depressed by once more being reminded of that Pokemon, and that the Pokedex's scanner clearly identified the genetic material of Shroomish, Quentin sank deeper into the water. His foot met something hard and round and he slipped, becoming entirely submerged in a surprised burst of bubbles.Shutting his eyes tight, he struggled upwards, and after a panicked second surfaced once more underneath the bridge, invisible to the searching swarm many meters above the ground. Jacqueline gave him a hard, questioning look, as if to ask, 'What were you thinking? Don't make noise!'

Curious now, and filled with a strange searching hope, Quentin fished around in his waterlogged backpack to fasten a pair of goggles over his eyes. Taking a loud, deep breath, he dove once again. Opening his eyes, he inspected his surroundings critically. The water was dark, but clear. He could make out the shapes of inquisitive fish Pokemon, keeping their distance. But his breath was limited, and his hope had morphed into a burning desire to _know_- it had to be. There was only one thing he would let it be, and he had to claim it. The bottom hadn't seemed so far away before; and he struggled downwards towards that elusive gleam that had shifted farther down the slope. Quentin could detect the pressure in his chest; his air was running out. Black began to crawl into the edges of his vision, but he took no heed. There was a perfect sphere lying half-buried in the muck, and Quentin pushed himself onwards, blocking out everything else. He had to get to that Pokeball!

And he was there. Even as his vision began to fade, he scooped his fingers around his prize, mud sliding away into the blue haze, and cradled it to his chest as he stopped struggling, curling protectively around the black Pokeball and sinking slowly. He had this Pokeball now, they had to know that he had become a Trainer. Now all that remained was to meet his beautiful starter, and then the two of them would begin their adventures together. Oh the times they would have! Struggles, and challenges, but together; laughing and playing in the sunlight; they'd make more friends and become the best Trainer and pokemon in the world! Quentin could see it clear as glass; nothing would stand in their way. No dustox, no bugs, no bullies; everything would be perfect. No- better than perfect. With a soft bump, his back touched the bottom, and the soft shock sent the pokeball bouncing out of his slackened fingers.

Panicking, he stretched out his arm up to catch his starter, his beloved starter; but his arm seemed sluggish, and his eyes were inexorably closing behind his goggles. There was a terrible pressure among his ribs, and his vision had narrowed to slits, focused on the black sphere which had begun to fall back towards him slowly, so agonizingly slowly; he cursed the water that slowed its descent. But even curses were escaping him now, and the funny thing was that Jacqueline couldn't swim. He idly mused this to himself as he saw her trying to dive deeper, but she couldn't swim far or fast and needed to return to the surface. Her vulpix couldn't help her here, could it; silly, silly girl. His chest burned, and he was so tired; but he had his starter now, he'd feel better soon. The black pokeball landed on his chest softly, and Quentin passed out in a rush of water.

Author's Note: It looks like I'll need to improve my posting time, nobody seems interested in my story after the latest chapter :(

Also, sorry for the extra week and a half delay, I was just tired and busy last weekend... and the one before... sorry... I'll stop apologizing.

As far as Dex entries go, I'll be using mostly Gen6 entries, but if an earlier one suits my purposes better I may use it.

Review please! I'm always looking for feedback.


	5. Another Try

Chapter 5: Another Try

This time, instead of waking up breathless and dizzy on the shore of a lake, Quentin stayed unconscious for twelve hours, coughing lightly and painfully, but not stirring. Jacqueline paced a narrow track beside his prone form. The kid was insane. There was no other explanation. First he tries to stay behind in Rustboro because he's so entranced by the Salamence. Then, when a group of children are attacked by Dustox, he starts chucking Shroomish and somehow gets out alive. Now, Quentin almost drowned himself just to grab a Pokeball on the lakebed. Couldn't he have, y'know, gotten a full breath of air and gone back down? If it weren't for some extreme luck, he'd have died at any of those points.

Well, at least she had found something good out of all that. Crouching, Jacqueline softly touched the head of the small pokemon that had brought Quentin back to the surface, curled up next to him. It had some impressive strength, to push a medium-sized human to the surface and up onto the bank. What was this little blue thing?

Something arose in a scrap of memory. She had seen Quentin pointing that red and black device at Pokemon to gain some sort of information about them; she hadn't been able to see the screen. Perhaps that could give her a clue as to what sort of Pokemon this was. But hadn't it been submerged? It was still worth a shot.

Dragging his backpack over, she began fishing through it. Sodden clothes, ruined notebooks. A plastic bag containing some kind of snack bar. Jacqueline absentmindedly helped herself to one and continued looking. Her fingers struck something hard. Pausing for a second, she began to feel around a little more carefully, her fingers smarting. There! It was the cool, hard exterior of the Pokedex. Grasping it by the small circular portion at the base, she tugged. Frowning, she tugged harder, and the Pokedex emerged from the depths of the backpack. Sitting back, she examined the strange device in her hands. It was mostly rectangular, with a flat circle inscribed like a Pokeball at one end. This particular device was red, and as Jacqueline flipped open the lid, it came alive.

The screen showed some sort of graphic of a Pokeball, before reaching a menu screen. Hesitantly, Jacqueline touched the line labeled "Scan." After the cute little scanning animation started, Jacqueline pointed it at Quentin's new starter. The little blue thing with the unnatural strength was sleeping in the crook of his arm, out of its pokeball again.

**Mudkip, the Mud Fish Pokemon. To alert it, the fin on its head senses the flow of water. It has the strength to heft boulders. **

_Whew._

Jacqueline sat back, relieved. No creepy ghost types, and something she had heard of before. And it being able to lift Quentin was explained away pretty easily if the little guy practiced on boulders. Quentin may be heavy, but he definitely was not equal to a boulder.

As things were, they'd still need to make their way through the forest again, to accomplish the task set to them by their late teacher. Why did they have to accidentally run in circles when being chased through a forest by a swarm of bugs? Why couldn't they have accidentally ran out on the other side of the forest? Sighing theatrically, she replaced the Pokedex in Quentin's bag.

Rolling out her sleeping bag, she resolved to get some rest before Quentin woke up. The next day they would give Petalburg Woods another try. And that was a trial neither looked forward to.

Quentin woke up once more on the Petalburg side of the bridge, not really sure how he had gotten there. He was shivering, and soaking wet. His eyes refused to immediately focus, and his chest held a deep deep ache. In those few seconds before a sleeper regains full consciousness, Quentin was afflicted with confusion, uncertainty, and fear. Why was he here again? Why was breathing such an ordeal? What had happened?

Then, as piercing the fogs of sleep, memory streamed back into Quentin's consciousness. He had found his starter! And now he had been pulled from the lake, it seemed; now where was his starter? He couldn't wait to meet them. As he began to shift, a weight on his shirt prevented him from moving. Looking down, he saw the small blue mudfish and went blank for a second. He had gotten a Mudkip for a starter! He reached down and stroked the little mudkip's fin, getting it to growl contentedly.

Carefully cradling the sleeping Pokemon, he stood, painfully, in a rush of water. To his left he caught sight of Jacqueline sprawled across her own ground sheet, her vulpix neatly curled on her back. A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Turning, he stretched painfully, his back popping loudly. This woke the small vulpix, who looked up inquisitively before nestling back into its tail. Soon, his new little mudkip yawned uproariously, opening and closing his mouth several times. Then it looked up inquisitively at its new trainer. "First of all, I can't keep calling you an it. Are you a boy, or are you a girl?" he asked, ignoring the tickling awareness that there was something about that particular question. The Mudkip, of course, couldn't understand him; so, sighing, he lifted the Mudkip up to expose its underbelly. "Yep, definitely a male;" muttered Quentin, wrinkling his nose. "So now you need a name."

The Mudkip continued looking at him, probably not understanding a thing he said. They could understand some words in time, but they had barely met. Placing the Mudkip back down, he sat down as well, and hugged his knees to his chest. Remembering some vague history lesson, Quentin spoke "I think I'll call you Turnus." The Mudkip chirruped happily, seeming to understand. Turnus, as the Mudkip was now called, seemingly satisfied with its trainer and designation, curiously nosed the vulpix.

Instinctually, it tried to light him on fire; Turnus squeaked and batted at his nose, trying to cool it down. Quentin's light laughter woke up Jacqueline, who also stretched lazily, blinking away sleep. She found her vulpix wrestling with that mudkip, and Quentin looking on with a fond look on his face.

"What do we have in the way of food?" Jacqueline asked cautiously.

Quentin's smile fell from his face. "I've got a bunch of protein bars in my bag, and a few sandwiches. I'm not sure how long they'll last or how well they survived the lake."

"All I've got is what I didn't eat from my lunch yesterday. Didn't think to bring more..." she trailed off, flushing slightly. With only a slight awkward hesitation, Quentin clapped her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I think I have enough for the two of us. Plus, we can catch some fish or something." His worried, hopeful smile brought a matching expression to her face.

"Might as well get going, we can eat at noon."

Nodding in agreement, he quickly repacked his bag, placing little Turnus on his shoulder, who nuzzled his neck in gratitude. Pausing as Jacqueline finished up, he mentioned, "You should probably keep the fox out of its pokeball. By the way, did you name it yet?"

A beam of red light coalesced into the vulpix, and Jacqueline proudly stated, "I named him Terry. He's a good little vulpix."

Watching the vulpix for another half-second, something was tugging at the back of Quentin's mind. "Are those even native to Hoenn?"

"Dunno, never seen one before. What if it isn't?"

Pointing his Pokedex at it, he recited "**Vulpix, the Fox Pokemon. When it is born, it has just one snow-white tail. The tail splits from its tip as it grows older**. So its tail will... split? How does that work?"

Shrugging, she gestured towards the forest. "Come on, let's get a move on. We don't have all day. Dustox swarm at night."

Shouldering his bag and Turnus, he began walking, Terry trotting excitedly in front of them.

The first thing he noticed was the silence. Once again, the woods held an unearthly lack of noise, muffled in the shadows of the trees. Both of them could feel their hearts thumping. The pure silence grated on the nerves, with only muffled footsteps and the crunching of leaves sounding loudly in the dark. The small group was so on edge, that unsurprisingly, when the first Wurmple poked its head up from the leaf litter and moved towards them, Terry burnt it to ash before it moved six inches.

All of them released a collective breath, the relief obvious on both trainers' faces. Quentin directed a rueful smile at his friend, only to find her attention directed somewhere else. The smile slid from his face, but then Jacqueline's soft curse brought him back.

"Shit."

Following her line of sight, Quentin's stomach lurched as he saw Sam.

His head was the only part of his body free from the thick, entangling web around his body. His eyes were glazed and feverish, his head rolled bonelessly backwards. He was only breathing quickly and shallowly, his eyes unfocused, twitching occasionally. Small jerks of his cocoon indicated he was attempting to move, to no avail. As they watched, the web stretched between two trees that held him up began to vibrate, as something else began to crawl down the fibers.

**Ariados, the Long Leg Pokemon. It attaches silk to its prey and sets it free. Later, it tracks the silk to the prey and its friends.**

The red spider, either not noticing the humans shocked still or ignoring them, continued delicately stepping down the threads, clicking softly as it scuttled towards Sam's insensate body.

"Terry, use Ember!" "Turnus, use... Water Gun!" cried Jacqueline, and then Quentin. Terry leaped forward, growling, and launched a flurry of sparks at the bug, which chittered in alarm and leapt aside. The sparks caught on the very flammable web, and raced along each strand, reducing them to nothing. The Ariados screeched, fire impeding its retreat; then a Water Gun smashed into its carapace, driving it deep into its own webs. Of course, this knocked it off the non-sticky silk, and soon it was caught in its own sticky web. It begin to try clawing itself free, but the fire caught it up as well, and it screeched another two times before falling silent.

"Turnus, put out the fire!"

Obediently, the Mudkip spat a long stream of water which doused the flames with a hiss and crackle, steam obscuring vision. Holding her arm in front of her eyes, Jacqueline hurried into the cloud, taking the collapsed Sam. "Do you have a knife or something?" she asked Quentin, not taking her eyes off of Sam.

Digging around in his backpack, he produced a utility knife which he placed handle first in her palm. She began working hurriedly, attempting to free Sam from the string tying him. First bouncing off tough thread, then sawing in a little way; progress was slow. Quentin attempted to rip it, but the stuff was strong; Sam was fading fast.

"Terry, try to burn it off!" cried Quentin. Terry, looking to his master once, began to blow a small stream of fire, then stopped, whimpering.

"Come on, it's for his own good! We need to get him to a hospital!"

Terry still hesitated, whimpering and looking between the three humans, snorting small sparks. Finally, he gave in and blew a weak pulse of fire onto the string, which caught alight. Slipping on his gloves, Quentin began ripping away the burning silk, ignoring the heat that licked his skin. Uncaring of where it landed, he began tearing away layer after layer, heedless of his own safety. With Turnus stamping on or washing away small fires that sprung up, Sam was soon freed.

"Oh no..."

His body was swollen and discolored from poison, and his breathing was growing labored.

Suppressing a wince, Quentin hoisted the boy up onto his shoulder. "Come on! We need to go!"

He dashed off, heedless of obstacles, Turnus gleefully chirping from his other shoulder. Jacqueline followed closely, forced to carry Terry, half-panicking and half-admiring Turnus. The little Mudkip turned like a portable turret on Quentin's shoulder, shutting down anything that hoped to impede his trainer's progress.

The boy staggered forward, supporting his classmate- it may have been unfair to call them friends when they had known each other for two days- ignoring the bloody lines whipped into his face by venturesome tree branches.

Quentin only saw the surroundings he was passing through as a sort of haze. An indistinct impression of a path crossed and left again, trainers turning to accost him and being ignored, a brilliantly flowered shrub, a Beautifly rearing up and being knocked full in the face by a jet of water; green-brown-gray-green colors blurring together as his eyes burned. Here was the nest of another Ariados, there was the hazy outline of a bug catcher with net and protective gear; he could feel his legs protesting, but he had to go on. He was forced to start slowing down, even as a glimmer of light between the trees excited unreasonable hope. Stumbling towards it, Sam coughing thickly and Quentin suppressed any noise, focusing only on his breathing.

It was close enough to touch; between two trunks there appeared a vision of sunlit grass and flowers, tranquil and blindingly bright. Quentin felt relieved. At last, he had found the end of the accursed forest. Stumbling out, he fell to his knees, letting Sam roll heavily off his shoulder, groaning. Groans were good. Meant he was still breathing.

As he shook his head, trying to regain his breath, he understood the fast beat of someone running towards him. No, wait- two people, one from behind, one from in front of him. Unable to raise his head, he listened as well as he could. From behind came the light, labored breathing of Jacqueline, and in front was someone he did not know. The first object to enter his field of vision was a pair of sturdy black boots, followed immediately by thick dark orange pants as their wearer knelt down besides him.

Jacqueline cut this unknown figure off as they began to check Quentin for injuries.

"He's fine, just exhausted. Can you help Sam?"

The panicked edge of her voice made the figure hurry over to the swollen body that Quentin had shouldered across what seemed like miles of thick woodland.

"Ariados poisoning," cursed a smooth, mature voice. Male, as well. As the person- now identified as a man- knelt beside Sam, Quentin could see more clearly who it was. His sturdy orange and black clothes and the symbol on the back of his jacket were distinctive, but Quentin couldn't seem to place where he knew it from.

The man removed some sort of syringe from his rucksack, and filling it with a clear liquid, injected Sam before they could protest. Their startled cries of alarm were cut off as he preemptively explained in a harsh tone. "Antidote, but the poison's too deep in his system. We need to get him to medical care. And fast. This just slows it down."

Looping an arm around Sam, not flinching or hesitating in the slightest, he rose back to his feet. His left hand flicked out a Pokeball, and in a flash of light a creature Quentin hadn't seen before materialized. It took the appearance of some kind of stone or clay statue, with closed eyes ringing its entire head.

It was Jacqueline's frank classification of the creature that stopped Quentin's investigation.

"Claydol."

The ranger interrupted any further discussion, "Grab hold of me or Tros here. Be quick about it."

Knowing better than to hesitate with Sam's life on the line, Quentin grabbed a corner of the man's coat while Jacqueline placed her hand on the claydol, and the man placed his own hand on the protrusion at the top of the claydol's skull.

Then, Quentin went through the strangest experience he had felt so far. Bile flooded his mouth as the nausea struck. He was falling with a terrible sense of immediacy, like how a boulder tumbling down a mountainside crashes into the ground and shatters at the end of its journey. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel; nothing but the terrible sensation of falling. But as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared.

His sight returning, he staggered away from the man, and threw up, thankfully making it to the edge of the road. Jacqueline was in similar state, swaying back and forth, looking green and undecided about whether she should throw up. After a few seconds, she decided that was a good idea and rushed to the roadside as well. Too nauseated to care about impropriety, he held her hair back from her face as she emptied her stomach. The motion sickness having passed, they looked around. They were in front of a Pokemon center, helpfully labeled as such; the man had already carried Sam inside.

The blast of cool air inside the doorway finished calming Quentin down; he caught sight of a stretcher going away around a corner, deeper into the hospital portion of the center.

Running up to the lady at the counter, Jacqueline burst out, "Is he going to be okay?"

The nurse was confused for a second, then understanding dawned on her face. "Your friend who was bit by ariados? We don't know, the poison's deep in his system. It's too soon to tell. You're lucky Ranger Norris found you guys when he did. Wouldn't have been too much longer before he would've been beyond help."

**Author's Note: Ah well, I finished a chapter. Please review, because that helps me validate my writing. :)**

**I'd like to hear any opinions on characters' future teams. About half of Quentin's is planned out.**

CURRENT CAST

Quentin

Badges: 0

Pokemon: Turnus (Mudkip). Known moves: Water Gun.

Jacqueline

Badges:0

Pokemon: Terry (Vulpix). Known moves: Ember.

Ranger Norris

Badges: 5

Known Pokemon: Tros (Claydol) Known moves: Teleport.


	6. Petalburg

6- Petalburg

By the generosity of the Ranger and Nurse Joy, Quentin and Jacqueline were provided with rooms for the night. Pokemon Centers thrived on donations, and were often granted haphazard funds by erratic city governments. Petalburg's Center was relatively well off due to the interest granted by the city's gym leader. For that, the Nurse Joy on duty decided to offer two children rooms without charge.

Quentin found his room without incident, and took short notice of the spartan room, before tossing his pack on the bed and heading into the bathroom. He really needed a hot shower. After showering, he filled the tub and let Turnus out to paddle gleefully in the warm water, mud sloughing off the pokemon's skin. Warm and finally clean, he was asleep seconds after hitting the pillow.

When Quentin finally emerged in the morning, yawning, the sun was high in the sky. Making his way down to the Pokemon Center's cafeteria, he had to restrain a curious Turnus from investigating every detail of the building. Gathering up the inquisitive Mudkip in his arms, he made his way towards the buffet lines, stopping and adjusting every couple seconds to secure the squirming pokemon. Finally stowing Turnus in his backpack, where he inquisitively peeked out over his shoulder, he reached the lines, not realizing that he had sort of slowed down a line of trainers. Loading up a plate with toast and grabbing a bowl of cereal, he trudged towards an empty table. Once he sat down, he yawned cavernously, feeling his jaw pop.

Mechanically raising the spoon to his mouth, he became a little more awake after a spoonful of cold cereal. That was when he realized that Turnus had once more made his way out of his backpack and was now on the table, munching on a piece of toast.

"Do you even eat toast, little buddy?" Quentin asked softly, not expecting a reply. Reaching out, he rubbed the Mudkip's fin, getting him to growl happily. Turnus showed no ill effects to eating the toast, so Quentin shrugged. It wasn't like he'd let him have any of his cereal. Munching away, he idly considered his options.

What could he do now?

He couldn't very well go back to Rustboro. Half the city was wrecked by those Salamence-dragons. Quentin involuntarily shuddered. Those pokemon were some of the most terrifying creatures he had ever seen.

Could he wait here for his parents to find him? They would've escaped the attack, of course; but they had no way of knowing he was here. They'd still think him to have... been at the Trainer school... _they must think him to be dead._ Mom and Dad couldn't have known that the teacher had sent the students away in time; they'd just see a pile of wreckage and rubble. His heartbeat sped up as this filtered through his consciousness. He needed to contact them as soon as possible. But how?

Quentin's mind whirred through possibilities as he absentmindedly ate, Turnus happily helping himself to the toast. He'd need a phone or something, and he didn't know if his parents would have access to their phone line! How would he contact them? Racked by doubt, he stood up, carrying his dishes, and resolved to ask one of the two adults who seemed to know what they were doing: the Ranger and the Nurse.

Turnus trotting beside him, he walked quickly out of the Pokemon Center cafeteria, attempting to get his bearings. Fueled only by a misplaced sense of urgency and the aforementioned bowl of cereal, Quentin found himself among adults. Tall trainers, grimy in weather-worn coats; only some had showered since arriving. However, the main problem was that they were blocking his vision. He couldn't see where the desk with the nurse was, or where the Ranger might be staying. Trying to politely move forward, he was stymied again and again by the dark press of figures.

Fed up with his lack of progress, Quentin gave in and yelled, "OUT OF MY WAY! I NEED TO GET TO THE DESK!" This drew the figures' attention, and mixed reactions. Some chuckled at the brash action; others, catching the edge in his voice, moved aside; a handful of the less experienced trainers took offense, but were held back as Quentin moved up to the desk behind which Nurse Joy sat.

"Oh, the boy Ranger Norris brought in? How are you feeling this morning?"

"I need to way to send a message to Rustboro."

"Use your trainer ID to use the computer, dear." The nurse condescendingly indicated a tall, white, boxy machine to one side. It was unused, and looked positively ancient.

"I... don't have one. I just got Turnus two days ago!" How important was a Trainer ID? It sounded important, but how could he have gotten one?

"The... mudkip, correct?" At his fierce nod, the nurse pondered. Mudkip was one of the official starter pokemon of the region, and the kid was a new trainer with no badges to his name. "Do you have a Pokedex, perhaps?"

A hush fell over the room. Quentin, confused, confirmed her suspicion by removing the red device from his backpack and handed it to her. Quentin did not realize how rare Pokedexes were, not even taking into account the high grade of his particular model; one of that quality, in fact, would usually be found in the hands of a researcher, gym trainer, or protégé of Professor Birch. All these qualities added up in the minds of the watchers, evaluating and reevaluating.

"Here, I'll just generate your Trainer ID. Please wait while I insert your Pokedex into the computer." Bustling around the counter, she went over to the computer, and using one finger, tapped a set of keys for her own login. Slamming the Pokedex into the side of the machine until it finally connected with a port, she left it hanging precariously to use her other index finger to type. "Please enter your information."

Name: Quentin Russell.

Hometown: Rustboro City, Hoenn.

ID No. : 24280 (This slot was autofilled when he reached it.)

Pokedex: 8 (This also autofilled. Quentin guessed the Pokedex itself updated this.)

When he pressed enter, a side machine, made of the same off-white "Silph Co." plastic, began to whir. With measured creaks and groans, it printed out a card which the Nurse happily handed to Quentin. "Here you go! Now you can use the computer."

Thanking the nurse and feeling slightly embarrassed by the whole process, he stood in front of the computer and slotted in his shiny new card. It came away with a new coat of grime. However, the PC booted up and flickered on.

**Which PC would you like to access?**

_Quentin's PC. _

**Accessed Quentin's PC. What would you like to do?**

_Mailbox._

**Options: **

Inbox

Outbox

_Outbox_

_Compose Message_

Now here was a slight problem. How do you phrase your survival note? How do you hope to reassure grieving parents that you are alive and safe? Thinking for a bit, Quentin settled with:

Hi Mom, Hi Dad, it's Quentin. I am safe and well. I am currently in Petalburg City. Are you guys okay? Where are you? I don't know how long I'm staying here. Please get this soon.

_Send Message_

Logging off, Quentin stepped back with a sigh. He had sent his message. Now to hope that they would read it soon and save them grief. Shaking his head, he began walking back to the cafeteria. Might as well find Jacqueline and grab another bite to eat.

Turnus, of course, was excited too. He wanted more food, of course. The little mudkip was always hungry. After a perusal of the room, Quentin couldn't see Jacqueline. Grabbing more toast, he decided to look through what he had in his Pokedex on Mudkips. It might have useful knowledge.

**Mudkip, the Mud Fish Pokemon. To alert it, the fin on its head senses the flow of water. It has the strength to heft boulders.**

_Read More_

**It has fins on its head and tail. The fin on its head acts like a radar dish to read its surroundings, and its tail fin increases its swimming speed. The gills on its cheeks allow it to move about in water. It's very strong for its size-it can even lift big boulders. It burrows into muddy watersides to sleep. Mudkip evolves into Marshtomp.**

Reading further and further into sub-sections, Quentin was so totally engrossed in learning about his starter that he did not even register Jacqueline arriving, hair frizzy and yawning widely.

"Hey Quentin. Whatcha reading?"

"Hm? Oh, hey Jacqueline! I'm just reading what this thing has to say about Mudkips."

"Mmm. Okay. What do we do now? We've reached Petalburg; what did the teacher tell us to do here?"

"It was... reporting the fight? I think that means we'll need to talk to a gym leader. Does Petalburg even have a gym?"

Jacqueline shrugged eloquently, munching loudly on some sort of imitation waffle. The kind that always show up at free breakfasts. You know, where you have to pour a pre-measured cup of batter into a waffle maker, and it produces a pale round wafflish thing? Those waffles.

"We'll check up on Sam, and then go see the gym."

Jacqueline started guiltily; she had barely thought about Sam this entire morning. One of the other survivors of the Rustboro Trainer's School was deep in a hospital, and she hadn't considered him.

Stuffing down the remainder of the waffle and chugging the remainder of her glass of juice, Jacqueline stood up quickly. "Let's go talk to the nurse."

Putting his Pokedex back away, Quentin nodded stiffly and stood up, pushing his plastic chair back from the force of his movement. Picking up his pokemon, he placed him on his shoulder and began walking back towards the front desk, Jacqueline a little ahead.

"Excuse me? Is Sam in here?"

The nurse looked up, her face blank. "Oh, the boy who was brought in last night? He's in intensive care. Poison had begun to swell his windpipe so he couldn't breathe. He's on his way to a full recovery, but we can't allow any visitors for the next seventy-two hours. Sorry." Without changing expression, she turned away to a trainer who had just come up to the desk. "Hi! Welcome to the Pokemon Center! How can I help you?"

Safely ignored, Quentin and Jacqueline turned towards each other, about to speak. They stopped, however, when they recognized their own expression on the other's face. They held no illusions about how much Nurse Joy cared for their irreverent questions.

"To the gym?"

"Yeah."

"Come on."

Weaving through taller trainers, the two preteens made their way outside, the bright sunlight dazzling them. Quentin threw an arm up to shade his eyes; Jacqueline squinted. "Dear Jirachi it's bright out..."

Quentin, unsure of how the town was laid out, followed the road. Passing rows of small houses with gardens, he came to the end of the paved road. A long stretch of grass led to a copse of trees, with runners training, adults chatting, and a venturesome bug catcher or two jumping around. Clearly all trainers. Nope, no gym here. He turned on a dime and walked back along the road.

At this end of the road was a large, squat building. Its somber facade was clearly labeled "Petalburg Gym."

"Rather depressing-looking, isn't it?" asked Jacqueline rhetorically.

Quentin inclined his head slightly, and opened the door, narrowing his eyes through the blast of air from inside.

The building was sparse, like it seemed many things in Petalburg were; there were merely two columns, surmounted by carved pokeballs, and a desk in the center of this front room. The columns bore plaques naming certified trainers, and behind the desk was a single man.

The man was powerfully built, with hair so dark as to appear almost bluish in the soft light; he seemed almost too big for the desk, as if it would break if he moved too violently. While the two young trainers were gazing around in wonder, he noticed them and spoke first.

"Greetings. I am Norman, the gym leader of Petalburg Gym. What is your purpose here?"

After a pause, Quentin and Jacqueline both spoke up; heard the other; and quieted. Quentin gestured for Jacqueline to begin.

"Ummm, mister gym leader, we're from Rustboro's Trainer School... and we were told to report an attack on the city."

"An attack? On Rustboro?" Quentin's impression had been right; Norman stood suddenly, and his chair clattered to the ground behind him with impressive force. "Tell me everything."

And so they told him. They described with all the detail they could remember the first screeching roar, the vast shadow of Salamence; their teacher's defiant stand and instructions; the arrival of another Salamence, and the destruction they fled from. Prompted by a look, Quentin told as much as he knew of what had befallen the children in the forest, praising their pokemon for the valiant defense.

"This is troubling news. Salamence are extremely rare in these parts, the closest place to Rustboro would be..." Trailing off, Norman stuck a hand in his desk, and groped around for a second or two before removing a map.

Humming slightly as he looked over the map, he jabbed a point with his thick finger. "Here!"

The children leaned forward, curious.

Meteor Falls.

"That's a mighty fierce place, haven't been there in years. The Salamence inside keep to the upper reaches of the cave, where no trainers venture. It's rumored they guard something up there, but no one has any idea what. For something to disturb them; the only things in Hoenn that could match a nest of Salamence would be a tribe of Metagross or a trainer so Rayquaza-damned strong as to fight off a group of dragons..." He trailed off, contemplative.

"Those are almost the only options. Flygon never leave their desert homes, Kingdra and Gyarados are ocean-dwellers, Swampert and Slaking don't exist in large numbers in the wild... Metagross are rare enough as it is, but the only other option is a trainer."

Quentin, curious, asked, "What's Slaking? What's Swampert?" He was bursting with questions about all these intimidating names.

Norman chuckled. "Slaking's easy enough to show you." Removing a pokeball from his belt, he tossed it towards one of the open areas on his left, calling "Come on out, Lazychops!"

A flash of red light, and a massive ape-like being towered over them. It yawned, scratched its belly, and closed its eyes.

"Swampert... I don't have one of those, but they are the final evolution of Mudkip, and fierce fighters. They're one of the Hoenn official starters."

In another quick movement, Quentin had both Turnus and his Pokedex out, scanning the mountain-like ape.

**Slaking, the Lazy Pokemon. It is the world's most slothful Pokémon. However, it can exert horrifying power by releasing pent-up energy all at once.**

"So you're saying Turnus is going to turn into a big powerful final evolution some day?"

"If he survives long enough..." he muttered darkly.

_A mudkip and pokedex..._

"Ah! You must be Birch's third! Glad to know he found someone else! Here, can I get you to run an errand for me?" Norman's mind faintly whirred with ideas. The third pick, here?

"Can you check in on my daughter May? She's training in Granite Cave on Dewford Island. She was supposed to stay in contact, but she hasn't been sending messages for a few weeks. If you find her, she'll probably drag you along on her gym challenge. That mudkip of yours won't last in a Fighting gym. Here, this'll help."

Norman dragged out a crate from under his desk. Rummaging around in it, hidden from the sight of the friends, he eventually resurfaced bearing a Pokeball. "With this guy, you can almost waltz through the gym. Here, you can have him. He was a gift from an old friend, and I can't use him in my Normal gym."

Taking the pokeball, but almost afraid to open it, Quentin thanked Norman. He was still rather confused by the whole business. Birch's third? What did that mean? Quentin was rather baffled, but went along with it. After all, this guy was giving him a Pokemon. Anything for the team.

Jacqueline, luckily, listened to the instructions Norman was giving on how to reach Dewford. There was a sailor who apparently lived nearby, and with a note Norman provided, he would convey them to the island town. Quentin had zoned out through all of this, focused on the Pokeball in his hands. Finally coming back to himself, he realized Norman had dismissed them. He followed Jacqueline closely out the door, once more running straight into that Jirachi-damned brightness.

**Author's Note: Well, this was an uneventful chapter... But Quentin has another objective! And another, currently unknown Pokemon!**

**Please review, even if it's just a few words or a question. Those really motivate me to keep writing! **

**Norman is introduced, and May is mentioned. That's more characters! Yay more characters who aren't about to die! Hopefully...**


	7. Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Chapter 7- Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Shaking his head to regain his vision, Quentin turned slightly. "So... where were we going again?" he asked innocently.

Jacqueline wasn't quite sure how serious the question was, but Quentin's face gave nothing away, wide-eyed and curious. Snorting, she turned away. "Dewford Town, to the south. We need to deliver a message to someone named... May was it? Gym leader's kid striking out on their gym challenge."

Quentin nodded, before asking another question. "Is that why he gave us all those things?"

After the resulting nod, he pulled the Pokeball off his belt. "Well, let's see who is in here! Come on out, whatever you are!" Tapping the pokeball's button against the ground, he took his hand away and stepped backwards, waiting for the flash of light. No matter how ready he was for the light, he had to shield his eyes, squinting. Blinking away spots, he lowered his arm; now he just had to figure out what the pokemon was.

First impressions first: it was small. And the top of it was green. As Quentin's vision came more and more back into focus, he determined it to be the top of some sort of helmet. It was all he could see of the thing's head, given how it was looking at the ground.

After a second where he realized it didn't want to make eye contact, Quentin crouched down to the Pokemon's level, tentatively extending a hand. "Hey boy, who're you? Don't be scared, I'm your new trainer." Murmuring more than speaking, it was unclear if the reassuring words were directed more at the Pokemon or at himself.

The creature seemed slightly strengthened by the kindness, and looked up slightly. The green shell was for sure a helmet, as frightened round eyes looked up from under its brim.

"Hey, what kind of a Pokemon are you?" Seeing no real objection, he finished reaching his hand out and knuckled the edge of the helmet gently. It shrank away at first, but then moved into the touch, warming up noticeably.

Moving slowly with his other hand, Quentin removed his Pokedex from his bag. He made sure not to make any sudden movements that might startle the little pokemon with the green shell on his or her head.

**Ralts, the Feeling Pokemon. If its horns capture the warm feelings of people or Pokémon, its body warms up slightly.**

"A psychic, huh? Can you... y'know... telepathize or something?" Ignoring Jacqueline's muffled chuckles at his word choice, he smiled encouragingly at the Ralts. "Show me."

The note of challenge in his voice was not lost on either listener. The Ralts fell silent, and drew itself inwards. Quentin withdrew his hand, slightly confused but hoping for something good. In the silence, it became more obvious that the Ralts did not refuse to comply, but instead focused intently, before lifting its arms with an adorably tiny shout. Pebbles and dust around it began to shake, before lifting off the ground a short ways, wobbling in midair. Quentin sat back a short ways as the small psychic let them fall, clearly feeling his or her exertions.

"That's... pretty cool. We can train you to work on a bigger scale, right?" \

The little Ralts smiled, breathing heavily.

"I can't just keep calling you 'you', now can I?" mused Quentin.

"Moron, it says on the Pokeball." interjected Jacqueline off to one side.

Her only response was Quentin turning and sticking his tongue out before examining the plain Pokeball.

Etched somewhat sloppily into the surface was a name.

S

"Braaa... sih...daws?" Quentin was not very good at sounding things out. "Brasidas. Maybe just call you Brass? I'll figure it out later. Return, Brasidas." A red beam engulfed Brasidas and sucked him back inside the Pokeball.

Jacqueline, who had tried to give Quentin and his new friend some space, spoke up. "He can't have trained much if he's so small."

"We'll just need to fix that, won't we?"

Stowing the Pokeball carefully in his pocket, Quentin stood, grinning widely as he dusted off his pants. "I got another pokemon~" he sang quietly.

"Shut up, you." Rolling her eyes, Jacqueline shook her head as she walked past him. "Gotta find this sailor guy."

"Jeez, the Ranger guy had to have teleported us pretty far." muttered Jacqueline, pushing her way through the knee-high grass. It was starting to get hot and sweaty. Hoenn's late summer had to be one of the hottest times of the year. It never really got cold in the region, per se, but it definitely got hot.

Quentin grunted in response, busy trying to get his foot out of a knot in the grass. He jogged a little to catch up, his backpack bouncing heavily as he moved. A few seconds later, he stopped and shaded his eyes, squinting against the bright light.

Jacqueline stopped to see what he was looking at. "What you looking at?"

Wordlessly, he pointed to a dark line now visible over the next rise. "We're approaching the edge of the Petalburg woods again. Not fun memories."

Despite the heat, he shivered slightly.

Looking around for something to change the subject to, Jacqueline was rudely interrupted as something leaped at her from the grass, growling fiercely. Stumbling backwards with a small cry, she tripped and fell as the dark shape rushed towards her. Calling out Terry, she hastily directed him to light the grass on fire as a temporary blockade. The growling was still audible, even through the hissing curtain of smoke; Jacqueline climbed back to her feet slowly, trying to recover from that sudden adrenaline rush.

Then the growling changed to a sudden whimper and yelp as the fire began to grow larger.

After several seconds broken only by the crackling of the fire, Jacqueline spoke. "Uhhhh... brushfire?"

"Well... shoot."

The two preteens stood for a while longer, gazing in shock at the billowing curtain of fire. It took them about that long to realize that it was a bad idea to do so. Quentin, after a swift check of his surroundings, began dashing towards the ocean. Jacqueline recalled Terry and followed, calling for him to wait up. They were outpacing the fire rather easily, high-stepping through the tall grass. The escape was going rather well. Then Quentin came across the ledge obscured from their vision. Landing heavily on his front foot, Quentin slid to a halt barely at the edge of the unreasonably sharp incline, pebbles disturbed by his passage showering downwards, some taking an ominous few seconds to hit the ground below; windmilling his arms, shunting his weight backwards, he managed to sit down hard a foot away from the drop-off.

Jacqueline, as expected, was not quite as lucky in her observations. She was looking back, tracking the progress of the fire and panicking internally about causing a wildfire, running blind as it were. Her knee caromed off the back of Quentin's shoulder and she fell.

With her momentum carrying her forward, even twisting from the uneven impact, she didn't have a chance of stopping in time. This time crying out in shock, and fear, and some pain- hitting someone at a dead run hurt after all- she scrabbled uselessly at the dirt for a split moment before sliding off and vanishing from view in a cloud of dust and pebbles.

"JACQUELINE!" Quentin ignored the way his voice cracked as he cautiously crawled to the edge. The drop was steep, and the scree was loose and rough; not something fun to tumble down. At least, it transitioned nearly immediately to beach sand; that was a decent emergency cushion.

Jacqueline's voice was coughing heavily, obscured from Quentin's view by the dust her passage had kicked up. The boy sighed before flipping his hand helplessly, as if to say _Why not? _before leaping off the edge.

Quentin had a slightly better time than Jacqueline, mainly due to the fact he quite literally looked before he leaped; or, more specifically, jumped off the small cliff instead of rolling off it. Landing balanced and absorbing the shock with his knees and hips, he slid down the loose slope at an increasingly terrifying pace. Every little bit of speed threw him off; the boy had to put down a hand behind him to slow him down and try to steer slightly. Surfing at frightening speed down a hill, even in a low crouch, did nothing to help him when he hit the sand and his top half kept moving much faster than his feet. Cue flying faceplant into something hard. He was pretty sure he knocked it over.

"Owwww... gerroff you moron," mumbled a voice from beneath Quentin.

"You're alright!" exclaimed Quentin, quickly getting up and brushing himself off. "That was a nasty fall."

Spitting out sand, Jacqueline smirked. "It'll take a good bit more than that to get rid of me, moron," she quipped.

Smiling an easy, relieved smile, he pulled her to her feet. "Now where are we supposed to go from here?" Looking back, the smoking grasslands were filled with flocking with hordes of Wingull, dousing the flames with water guns.

Looking around the beach, they were dismayed to see a good number of people. Some were surfing in the waves, or fishing, or swimming in the water; but there were a lot camped out on the sand. Many of them had the distinct look of trainers.

"We can't beat this many trainers," hissed Jacqueline, aware that they needed to be a little less conspicuous.

Quentin looked ahead, trying to map out a relatively safe route. Jacqueline beat him to it. "If we go behind that girl sunbathing and make our way to the water's edge, there's only two fishermen between here and the far end of the beach. We can't let anyone notice us, we're too new. Terry and Turnus will be eager, but there's not much they can do when they're so young."

And they snuck off, hearts pounding, making little noise besides the sifting of sand and the relentless crashing of waves. Skirting the sunbather, there was a close call as Quentin kicked a rock; but they remained unnoticed. Quentin released a pent-up breath when he reached the water's edge, before suddenly jumping and dancing out of the way of the surf.

Jacqueline chuckled at him from slightly higher ground, before motioning towards the slope and the house that stood at the end of the incline.

"Stop right there! I'll battle you with this pokemon I just caught, it looks powerful!"

The two winced as they were caught.

"You want to take him or should I?" questioned the boy of the group.

"I got this, can't risk a moron losing to this guy." Patting him condescendingly on the shoulder, Jacqueline stood forward. "Go, Terry!"

"Go, Magikarp!"

The little vulpix appeared in a flash of red, licking his fur back into place.

Jacqueline's breath caught in her throat as the white flash faded away. What would it be?

An orange fish flopped out of the pokeball and onto the damp sand. It bounced and flopped into a small tidepool, where it rested, its massive round mouth opening and closing slowly, making small bubbles.

"Terry, tackle it!"

"Magikarp! Attack!"

The Magikarp flopped back up onto the edge, where Terry landed on it with all four paws. The creature flip-flopped sideways as Terry backed off, before flopping onto its back.

"Is it charging something?" wondered Jacqueline, as Quentin removed his Pokedex from his bag.

**Magikarp, the Fish Pokemon. It is virtually worthless in terms of both power and speed. It is the most weak and pathetic Pokémon in the world.**

Quentin's face fell dramatically, as he stared at the fisherman with a look that plainly read _are you kidding me._

"Terry, tackle it again!"

"Magikarp, use Superpower!"

Terry once more jumped on the fish, which flopped over twice. No attack forthcoming.

"Again!"

"Magikarp, use Magikarp's Revenge!"

Terry landed particularly hard this time, and the vacant eyes blinked once, before shutting.

"Awww, dammit Magikarp! You failed me! You don't live up to your name... Ready for my next Pokemon? I'm just getting started!"

That was just a warmup? Jacqueline tensed a little more, wondering what would come out of the next pokeball.

"Go, Magikarp! Blast Burn!"

Jacqueline's face fell to an expression mirroring Quentin's. This would be a long day...

"Looks like Magikarp doesn't live up to its name..." frowned the fisherman. "Here." he bad-temperedly shoved a bundle of money into her hands and turned back to the ocean.

Wiping sweat off her brow, Jacqueline paused to count the money, before putting into her pack.

"Ready to go, moron?" she called. No response.

"Don't tell me you fell asleep," she sighed. "Terry, tackle!"

Quentin woke up again when the vulpix landed feet first on his stomach, exhaling heavily.

"Did you finally win? Took you long enough," he grumbled.

"Come on, we can finally get off this Jirachi-damned beach," She unceremoniously dragged him to his feet before setting off towards the distant rise.

Climbing the rise, they were greeted by the sight of a large, stand-alone house. "Is this the place?" asked Jacqueline, not really expecting an answer.

The mailbox did say "BRINEY," though, so that was a good sign.

Knocking twice on the door, Quentin listened for a response. Hearing a commotion inside, he knocked louder. Still nothing except some kind of cawing and shouting. Turning the doorknob experimentally, he surprisingly enough found it unlocked. Unsure of what to expect, he cracked it a little, and looked through, surveying the interior with one slow gray eye.

Sighing, he pushed the door open all the way and stepped in, ignoring Jacqueline hissing "_what are you doing!_"

The house only held one person, who was busy chasing a Wingull around a table. As they watched, he took no notice of them, continuing to laugh and reach out his aged hands for the bird, which flew around the table as well, squawking happily. They were completely lost in the game they played.

Jacqueline called out, "Hello, are you Mr. Briney?"

No response, just more giggling and running.

Stepping into the darkened one-room house, they took notice of their surroundings. The first thing to hit them was the smell. The room was dirty, wrinkled, and altogether used, with newspapers scattered around, the remains of food still on the table, and that must have been Wingull poop everywhere. And everywhere was not exaggerating.

They could do little but wrinkle their noses, however, and continue inwards. For this man had a boat, and had once been a great sailor who had never feared the sea. Whatever he was now, he still had a boat.

"Hello? Mr. Briney?" Jacqueline tried again, only a few feet away from him on the nearest point of his circular path.

"Mr. Briney, we're here from Petalburg-" Quentin, too ,tried, but had no more success.

This continued for another five minutes, with them waving their hands in front of his face, swatting idly at the wingull, and trying anything they could think of. Nothing got through to the ancient man and his wingull, lost in an eternal demented chase.

"To hell with this," muttered a fed-up Jacqueline, sticking out her leg. Mr. Briney ignored it, as usual, and tripped and fell heavily. This was only meant to snap him out of whatever demented daze he was in, but things never turn out as planned. He fell, hard, and hit the table corner with an ominous crack. Headfirst.

"Shit." was Quentin's quiet assessment. Jacqueline stood shocked, hands to her mouth, frozen in place. Quentin flipped the man over, noticing the reek that clung to him, and saw the pool of blood spreading from his head. He was interrupted from any other observations as the Wingull dived at him, shrieking. "Brasidas, hold it off!" The Ralts emerged from the Pokeball and happily flung away the Wingull with Confusion, before seeing what Quentin was doing.

An excruciating pain cut into Quentin's skull with his first psychic contact, as the Ralts asked in a trembling voice, _What is going on, master?_

"Just- just shut up Brasidas! Just for a bit!" Quentin couldn't even look at the Ralts right now, and just made pushing motions with his free hand, his other clutching his head.

"He's gone," was Quentin's frank assessment. Sighing, he closed Mr. Briney's eyes, shuddering slightly at the contact.

_Master..._ the mental voice was getting louder and more demanding.

"Return, Brasidas!" Unable to handle the anger and disappointment of his Pokemon, Quentin took the easy way out. Postponing it. Returning the pokeball to his belt, he took a deep, shuddering breath, as Jacqueline still stood frozen.

"Come on, Jacqueline. We have to get out of here." spoke Quentin. The oppressively dark room and the stench of Wingull feces were pressing him in. He needed out.

Pulling one of Jacqueline's hands away from her face, he dragged her out of the tomb, knowing of the tears streaming down her face but unable to do anything about it at the moment.

"We need to leave. It was an accident, but all they have is our word against a body. Neither turns out well for us." Quentin spoke fast and low, and all it did was increase the pace of her crying.

Sobbing, she clung to his arm, her tears staining his jacket; he roughly shook her off. "We need to go;" he insisted.

Jacqueline allowed herself to be pulled around to the other side of the house, where he caught sight of the perfect escape plan that didn't involve Petalburg Woods or that damned beach.

They couldn't go anywhere right now, though. Jacqueline was incoherent, and he couldn't do it on his own.

"Jacqueline; the man was old and mentally ill. It's not your fault."

"D-don't you see Quentin? There's a d-dead man in that house. And I k-killed him."

"He died of an accident, Jacqueline. But if we stay out here much longer, they're going to blame us for his death. Do you want that, Jacqueline?"

Sobbing, she buried her face in his chest once again, shaking her head furiously, unable to form more words.

Ignoring his own guilt and anger, Quentin let her sob on him for what seemed like hours, his hands at his sides, until a group of people became visible in the distance. Touching her shoulder, he mouthed quietly, We need to leave.

Wiping her eyes futilely, she nodded, before looking confused. Where would they go?

Quentin allowed a small, dark half-smile to grace his lips as he asked, "Tell me, Jacqueline, have you ever gone sailing?"

**A/N: Whew, another chapter down! I wanted these two to meet May/Haruka this chapter, but noooo, they had to get lost on the beach. As things are, they need to leave the mainland. And fast. **

**In less dark matters, I'm looking for a beta reader! I'm really unsure how the whole beta process works, so any advice and help would be appreciated. Thanks to anyone still reading!**

CURRENT CAST

Quentin

Badges: 0

Pokemon: Turnus (Mudkip). Known moves: Water Gun.

Brasidas (Ralts). Known moves: Confusion.

Jacqueline

Badges:0

Pokemon: Terry (Vulpix). Known moves: Ember, Tackle, Tail Whip.


End file.
